Published author of YA and adult paranormal romance, horror, urban fantasy short stories, novellas and novels. On this site you'll find writing advice, information on my work, book reviews, author interviews and more…

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I recently watched the new IT movie and loved IT. I was a big fan of the 1990s mini TV adaptation, but in my opinion, this new film blindingly outshone it. Not just because of the better effects, but also it was wisely pulled forward in time to the 1980s which made me feel nostalgic and quickly bonded me to the characters. I’m not sure whether Stephen King’s book started the ‘creepy clown’ mindset or merely tapped into something that was already there, but few people can talk about clowns without mentioning IT.

The fear of clowns is called Coulrophobia, and I’m not that scared of them to consider this a personal problem for me, but I certainly wouldn’t choose to be in the same room with one; God forbid, get trapped in an elevator with one. Weird, underneath that white pancake make-up and exaggerated black and red features is just an average person, right? Hmmm, I guess that’s a dangerous assumption. It’s a fact that masks and costumes can change a person. Some actors can’t get into character until they are in their costumes, some people are more willing to commit immoral acts while wearing a mask and assuring their anonymity – but does the mask give that person license to do what they want? Or does it go deeper? When you put on a persona, can it alter your personality?

I work on an industrial estate that can sometimes get clogged with traffic. One night I was sat in a traffic jam when I absent-mindedly looked in the rearview mirror and saw that there was a clown in the car behind me. It was a weird thing to see, but I quickly assured myself that he was probably on the way to a party or perhaps on his way home. But, even with this logic, I found it hard to take my eyes off him. What if he did something weird? What if he pulled out some pins and started to juggle awkwardly behind the wheel? What if he got out of the car? And then he waved at me.

I did two things. I waved back with one hand and then locked my car’s doors with the other. I’m polite, but not stupid. As a horror writer, my mind suddenly began to swim with images of him bounding over to my car, cheap silky costume billowing behind him, breaking my windows with his chubby gloved hands, and then dragging me out and into the nearby shrubbery… but he didn’t do anything else. He just waited patiently for traffic to move, just like everyone else. But I was creeped out beyond belief. Maybe he meant it as a friendly gesture? But do any strangers wave at fellow drivers on the road? I’ve never had it before and not had it since. Was being dressed as a clown a factor in this friendly yet odd behaviour? I’ll never really know. I do know though, that what we wear affects how we act, just ask any business or school that enforces a uniform. Does dressing like a clown permit you to indulge a comical yet dark side that would usually remain hidden? I am guessing a lot of you are yelling the name of the famous serial killer John Wayne Gacy at the screen now, but arguably there have been more serial killers that haven’t dressed as clowns than ones that were. Or maybe, they just haven’t been caught yet.

Includes my short story She Looked Like Krystal Sparkle. A modern, twisted take on the fairy tale The Enchanted Canary.

For Fans of American Horror Story, Stephen King, Joe Hill, and Danielle Vega

America, land of the free, land of the brave, land of nightmares? A group of female authors come together in this collection of creepy tales and psychological horror stories to bring you chills and disturbing images that won’t leave you long after you are done reading. From zombies to rural small towns, to the foggy New England to the glamour of Hollywood, each story focuses on a diverse aspect of living in America and the horror found in bullying, being the “new girl,” starting your first job, and navigating the murky waters of adolescence and all the terrifying changes that come with it. Bold and haunting, My American Nightmare encompasses daring stories from new voices in the horror genre. This collection will unsettle your nerves and linger in your mind, demonstrating that women can show you a nuance of horror that isn’t always evident from the male perspective.

Imogene is young and beautiful. She kisses like a movie star and knows everything about every film ever made. She’s also dead and waiting in the Rosebud Theater for Alec Sheldon one afternoon in 1945….

Arthur Roth is a lonely kid with big ideas and a gift for attracting abuse. It isn’t easy to make friends when you’re the only inflatable boy in town….

Francis is unhappy. Francis was human once, but that was then. Now he’s an eight-foot-tall locust and everyone in Calliphora will tremble when they hear him sing….

John Finney is locked in a basement that’s stained with the blood of half a dozen other murdered children. In the cellar with him is an antique telephone, long since disconnected, but which rings at night with calls from the dead….

The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past…

My Review:

I love a good anthology, although one compiled by a single author usually defeats the purpose for me; I read anthologies to discover new authors to add to my ever growing reading list. However, I was recommended Joe Hill’s 21st Century Ghosts by a friend and thought the collection sounded interesting…and it was.

The stories are varied and creepy, covering a myriad of horror tropes. Some were scary, some were gross, and some were surprisingly poignant and heartbreaking; I particularly enjoyed ‘Pop Art’.

I must admit that as a horror writer myself I approached Joe Hill with a dubious sense of dread. As King of Horror Stephen King’s son, you’d be forgiven for thinking he has simply waltzed into a major publishing contract as a legacy author, something that could leave an old penny taste in the mouth of other writers that have struggled and fought for their place in the literary world. But I was pleasantly surprised. He’s talented and tells each story with expertise and flair; he deserves the hype (something that happens less and less these days)

The front cover is eye catching and has an expensive look to it, which is good as the cover is something that can go horribly wrong in this genre giving amazing books a cheap impression. Although, I’d expect nothing less from a major publisher such as Harper Collins.

Overall I’d give 21st Century Ghosts 4 out of 5 stars. If you’re already looking for a Halloween, read (I know I am, Halloween comes just once a year and preparation is key to wringing out every drop of wonderful creepiness) then look no further.

You run fast, but they are faster. Thump. As your body hits the ground, a painful tremor rattles your bones. Sharp nails drag across your chest. Blood blooms up like a salty, scarlet flower. A dirty hand rapidly thrusts between your ribs. Crack. The creature tugs at your heart, pulling part of it free. Rip. Quickly, it crams the organ into its foul smelling, yawning mouth and mashes it between barbed teeth. Munch. As it swallows, its dead eyes spark with life. Its expression morphs from hunger to affection. As the others mindlessly continue to split and steal your twitching limbs, it looks at you with the purest love you’ve ever known; will ever know. Tears squeeze themselves from its glazed, ebony, oozing eyes. Drip. It gently strokes your gore covered hair from you face. Caress. Your heart meat seems to have slid into the chasm-like crack that had crept deep into its soul. Love. And just before a bright, white light flutters down to swallow your soul whole, the creature grips onto your hand, determined to go with you and never let you go again.

If you like this, you might like my published books and short stories…

A single mother turns up dead at the bottom of the river that runs through town. Earlier in the summer, a vulnerable teenage girl met the same fate. They are not the first women lost to these dark waters, but their deaths disturb the river and its history, dredging up secrets long submerged.

Left behind is a lonely fifteen-year-old girl. Parentless and friendless, she now finds herself in the care of her mother’s sister, a fearful stranger who has been dragged back to the place she deliberately ran from—a place to which she vowed she’d never return.

With the same propulsive writing and acute understanding of human instincts that captivated millions of readers around the world in her explosive debut thriller, The Girl on the Train, Paula Hawkins delivers an urgent, twisting, deeply satisfying read that hinges on the deceptiveness of emotion and memory, as well as the devastating ways that the past can reach a long arm into the present.

Beware a calm surface—you never know what lies beneath.

My Review:

I enjoyed The Girl on the Train; it was the epitome of the unreliable narrator and an incredibly twisty story that surprised me; so I was looking forward to Into the Water. When I read the description, I though, oooh this sounds good. But when I started reading it, I found the amount of point of views incredibly confusing. Maybe I just don’t have the attention span to keep up, but in my opinion, if its a book that’s too long to read in one sitting (which this is) that many POVS just leaves the reader frustrated that they can’t keep the story straight. I had to take notes to keep the events straight, which ultimately marred my reading enjoyment and kept bringing me out of the story.

From a writer’s perspective, I applaud the author for weaving an intricate tale that comes together in the end, but I do wonder how many readers will even get to that payoff point. Also, by continually skipping character POV it becomes increasingly difficult to have any empathy for the characters involved, and when it comes to any book (especially a thriller where bad things inevitably happen), the reader needs to feel for the character to go on that emotional journey with them. I did find myself not giving a fig about the arguably large cast of protagonists.

The front cover is good enough, although I’,m pretty sure that if it hadn’t had had ‘By the author of The Girl on Train’ on the front, it perhaps wouldn’t have attracted so much attention.

Overall, I’d give this book 3 out of 5 stars; As an author, I truly believe in pushing literary boundaries and challenging readers, but Into the Water was just a little too much for me.

He wanted a relaxing day, to just melt into the overgrown grass of the reservoir’s bank like he’d died and his essence was being sucked back into Mother Nature’s belly; alas it was not meant to be. No matter how still he sat, his little amphibian mind buzzed with the constant hum of the nearby human buildings that surrounded the small man-made lump of nature he called home.

At least it was the weekend, and there were no school trips today. It was on those days he, and his neighbours, were subjected to stints of incarceration in brightly coloured buckets, and worse, forced into cartoon character backpacks never to be seen again. Yesterday had been one of those days. Three teenagers had snatched him up and, while laughing maniacally, passed him around and licked his back. All the while he was painfully aware that yet another group of kids were leaving the school system without knowing the difference between a common frog and a hallucinogenic toad.

He stretched out his long legs and tried to relax, such moments of peace were rare for him, so he felt obligated to enjoy them. All too soon he found himself wondering what it would have been like if he’d have been spawned in one of those lovely natural rivers. Maybe he should take a trip over to one, fight the homing urge? No, it was a bad idea, frogs from such waters looked down on the likes of him coming from a quick crudely made ‘reservoir’ rather than one lovingly evolved by Mother Nature. The idea left him as fast as it had appeared, although if he was truthful to himself, it had merely retreated to fight with his reason another day.

It was starting to get dark and the night dwellers that lived in the reservoir were beginning to wake. It was then he saw the human; a lone man carrying a wriggling sack over his shoulder….

The frogs were used to things being dumped in their home. Currently, it was being utilised by a scientific research centre. The last thing they had abandoned there was the Three Eyed Toad. Too large to hunt for food, the frogs had looked after him. In return, he had told them about the humans and their experiments, the strange coloured liquids that burnt, and the howling animals with greedy stares. He hadn’t lasted long in the wild; he’d simply known too much. He may not have been born of nature, but she was forgiving and didn’t judge him in death, she took him back. His body fed a flock of birds who watched the reservoir’s inhabitants with hungry vigilance.

“What’s going on Toby?” Minty scrambled up on the rock beside him and watched as the man dropped the sack on to the ground.

“Not sure, hope it’s someone like the toad, he was nice.”

“Yeah.” Minty looked away, a slimy tear dribbling down his jowl.

The man kicked the sack then looked up and around like he’d spotted a predator; he then shook his head and pulled out his car keys and started striding back toward the road where his company van was parked. They didn’t need to look at the van to tell it was from the research centre. Three Eyed Toad had warned them never to go near it, although deep in their frog bellies they had always known as much.

“Let’s go and have a look, someone might need our help,” Toby said, and then he bounced off the rock. Minty followed close behind him.

The first thing they noticed was that the bag smelt strange. It wasn’t like the unnatural smell of Three Eyed Toad or even the brightly coloured buckets that randomly became their prisons; no this was naturally unnatural.

It was a bag about five times the size of them, and it wriggled. Something was inside trying to get out, and Toby had the oddest sensation that whatever was in there, shouldn’t be free.

“Minty, hop onto the edge of the sack.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Minty jumped onto the sack’s edge, and Toby sat on the other end. The wriggling inside got worse.

“Can’t you feel that?” Toby asked, shooting a serious look at his friend.

“Feel what? The thing in the sack, we should let it out, it might be injured after the human kicked it.”

“No. It all feels…wrong we need to…”

Suddenly the sack stopped wriggling and deflated.

“What happened?” Minty moved from his corner to investigate.

“No, Minty, stop!”

The sack was empty, whatever it was it had eaten its way out of the bottom of it. Below, the ground was alive with scuttling creatures that swarmed toward Minty with a common purpose, “Hello, what do we have here?” was all he got out before they were all over him.

“Minty!” Toby was rooted to the spot; he wanted to help his friend, he needed to, but it was like his legs had turned to frog spawn, and all he could do was watch on helplessly as Minty was devoured by the little creatures.

The creatures looked like ants, but not like any ant Toby had seen before; they had giant yellow horns that erupted from their heads, horns that must have weighed more than any ant could carry, as they dragged their heads down, making it impossible to see their eyes. They didn’t act like other ants either; frogs were their natural predators they should be swarming away from Minty, not eating him.

Toby looked back to see the remains of Minty’s skeleton sinking into the mud. They reached the rocks and leapt behind them.

“Where’d they come from?”

Toby shook his head, “Guess!”

“Those scumbag humans.” Kewl looked back to see the ants had stopped swarming and were just standing eerily still. There were about twenty of them, and they had all simply stopped and were now silently watching the night sky above them, their heads still labouring beneath the horns.

“We have to do something Kewl, those things eat us, and we need to kill them before they start a nest here.”

“Ok, ants for dinner then.”

“No! There’s something wrong with them, can’t you feel that?”

Kewl peered over the rocks, “Yeah, no I get it, brother, I feel it too, they’re not supposed to be here.”

Toby joined him, and they both watched the ants staring at the sky. Shadows flickered above them.

“Birds! Get down!” Kewl yelled.

Both frogs jumped back behind the rocks and watched as a group of black birds circled the ants who just stared up at the feathered death bringers with oblivious abandon. One swooped down and started pecking at the small ant army. Instantly they were all over it. The bird cawed, struggled, and then was subdued as the ants feasted on its innards and licked the blood from its feathers.

“Toby, we are in so much trouble right now!”

The frogs stared up at the other birds circling the ants. After watching their comrade roll and writhe and then succumb to the strange horned creatures, they squawked at one another and then flew off into the safe horizon.

“Whoa!” Kewl looked from the empty sky to Toby, “I’ve never seen birds fly away from a meal before.”

“Food that eats you is not exactly high on their menu choice.”

“These little guys are rattling the food chain, no wonder they don’t feel right, brother. What did the humans do to them?”

“Three Eyed Toad said that they liked infecting creatures with viruses and bacteria for their amusement.”

“That’s no virus!” Kewl motioned at the ants that were now milling around the bird carcas, having stripped it like a Christmas Turkey.

“We need to see.”

“See what?”

“What they are, they don’t act like ants, ants would be working by now, building a hill, a home, and they’re not doing anything like that,”

“Apart from eating everyone, oh, hang on, what do you mean, see? I’m not getting any closer to those horny little weirdoes than I have to,”

Toby turned and looked Kewl in one of his side eyes, “We need to get one, we won’t know what we’re dealing with till we…”

“What? Pull it apart? What are we now? The humans? Shall we make up a cage of lily pads and twigs?”

“Actually that’s not a bad idea.”

“You’ve gone insane!”

“The world’s gone insane Kewl; I’m just a frog trying to keep up.” Toby jumped behind the rocks and started pulling at twigs and yanking plants out by their roots.

Kewl watched with sticky eyes and a dry mouth. Minty was dead. Rather than admit that and move on, like move way on to the next body of water away from the horned ants and certain death, Toby was waging a one frog war. They had all grown up together, spawned at the same time in the reservoir, probably not brothers, but as they had been tadpoles shedding tails and crawling out of the goo at the same time together, they felt like family. They’d stayed here and not jumped into the horizon like the rest of them, they had braved the school trips, scientific dumps and legions of birds and for Minty to die covered in ants… Kewl felt his back leg vibrate with anger, “What do you need me to do?”

Toby looked over and nodded, “We need to build a trap.”

“Count me in, brother.”

The two frogs worked quickly, their webbed hands moulding the mud into a primitive cage, the plant life of the reservoir tied together as ropes. Now and then one of them would poke their head up from the rocks to see what the ants were doing; the answer always seemed – not much, apart from staring at the sky and of course looking weird.

Once their tasks were complete, the frogs watched the ants for a while, judging the stragglers.

“There, the one to the right, he’s furthest away from the group,” Toby motioned to the ant almost on its own.

“Good spot, brother, let’s do this.”

It’s hard to be stealthy when you’re a frog, the very act of jumping is both noisy and noticeable, especially when croaking on lift off was almost a reflex; so they both decided that a surprise grab would work best. Once in position, they nodded to one another, took deep breaths and jumped onto the ant. Toby whipped out his tongue, grabbed it, and they both jumped back behind the rocks. Once there, Toby threw the ant back up and into the mud prison. It stared at them, its foreign looking giant horns waving in the breeze coming from the two panting frogs. After gaining their breath and composure back, they checked if the other ants had noticed. They hadn’t; their interest was still captivated by the night sky.

“So what the hell are you?” Kewl asked slamming his amphibian hand onto the mud ceiling. “I’m bad cop,” he whispered to Toby.

“No you’re a frog,” Toby whispered back.

The ant had no reaction to the question but squinted at the mud prison around it.

Toby pulled on their makeshift rope and wrapped it around the ant’s horns, “Just in case you get the nibbles friend.”

“We know that you came from the lab, tell us what you know.”

It said nothing. It just stared at them, the only difference than when it had stared at the sky was that now it had a hungry glint in its eye.

“That’s so odd,” Kewl said moving closer to it, “it’s not an ant, or I think it was maybe one at one time, just not anymore,”

Toby tightened his grip on the rope, “What do you mean?”

“It has this glazed look, and I can’t hear a heartbeat.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Kewl, of course; it has a heartbeat. If it didn’t, it would have been taken by Mother Nature already,”

Kewl moved even nearer, “Maybe it’s heartbeat is just faint?”

“Don’t get any closer!” Toby felt the ant tense then suddenly it reared back. The rope constricted on its horns and swiftly pulled them off.

“Whoa!” Kewl hopped back, and both frogs watched as the ant decomposed in front of them, its body turning several shades of death, then sinking into its mud prison, leaving the yellow horns still tied to the rope.

“That ant was dead; it was the horns that were alive, they were just using its body to…”

“To what? Have a nibble at the wildlife buffet? This is wrong, brother, we’ve gotta do something, if just one of those things gets outta here, it could upset the whole food chain. What if it’s not just ants that it can use? What if…”

Toby nodded, “Ok, we need a plan.”

Kewl took a deep breath, “I miss Three Eyed Toad, he would have known what to do.”

“That’s it! You’re a genius; we need to get to that lab and talk with his friends if he would know, they’d know. They might even know what these zombie ants are.”

“Hang on there brother, that place is dangerous.”

“The lab is now only marginally more dangerous than being here, and what if those yellow horns were to attach themselves to a human? What then eh? We need to know what we’re dealing with if we’re to stop them.”

“I don’t care what they are, brother, I just what to know how to kill them.” Kewl looked off into the middle distance and puffed out his chest.

“We know how to kill them Kewl; we pull off their horns, we just need help, we can’t get them all on our own, there’s too many, they’ll swarm us.”

Deflated Kewl sighed, “I know that I was just trying to be cool.”

Toby laughed, “You are Kewl, that’s how you got your name.”

***

They hopped like it was spawning season, the wind against their drying skins, and the fear of the ants weighing heavy on their minds. They stopped briefly to tell their few frog friends about the zombie ants and ask that they keep an eye on them, but not to go too near. Although most had gathered as much upon seeing the horns and feeling the insect’s aura that declared ‘keep away’. Funny the animals got it, most of them anyway, why hadn’t the humans? Surely they would have felt that primeval kick in the gut when they had seen those things, and if they had, why release them into the wild? Three Eyed Toad was set free because he had outgrown his usefulness; what could be learnt from an extra eye? The frogs quickly found that it made his eyesight worse rather than better, his balance was terrible so moving was a constant game of gravity roulette, where would he fall next? Humans were meant to be top of the food chain; they controlled the wild, made the reservoir, could freely walk anywhere without fear of being eaten by a hundred and one other species, yet still they didn’t seem happy to leave Mother Nature to get on with it. They still had to interfere.

***

The smell of humans and chemicals was everywhere, and the smooth floors were proving painfully slippery to the frogs, but they had made their way via a sewer grate, and up through a toilet, so there was no turning back.

Their little eyes bulged at the giant furniture and flashing lights, even at night the lab didn’t rest. They hadn’t seen any humans though; Three Eyed Toad had instilled a fear so deep within them about the white coated creatures that the mission would have been instantly aborted upon one’s appearance – every frog for himself.

The door that held the animals was unmistakable in its scent, so the frogs made their way beneath the cracks and soon found themselves staring at row after row of metal cages.

“He didn’t; he got released. He said that they put a pink slip in his cage and the next day he was free.”

“The pink slips are too dangerous; they could mean get rid of for all we know. There must be another way to open the cages; we’ll find it and talk to these guys, we need help, Kewl.”

“What about the food chain? If we let something above us out, it’ll just eat us.”

Toby hopped further into the room. Eyes, pink and raw stared back at him, “Don’t worry Kewl. They’re beyond the food chain now, the humans have done things to them.”

Kewl followed him, and soon a strange whispering began to echo about the cages, voices from a hundred different tiny tongues.

“Umm, hello.” Toby stood on his hind legs so he could meet their eyes, as best he could, “I’m Toby, this is Kewl.” He gestured at his friend who rolled his eyes.

“How did you get in here?” a small voice from behind the nearest cage.

Toby hopped toward it and peered into the darkness.

Two round pink eyes greeted him then a clawed hand slowly extended from the cage, “I’m Number 335.”

Toby took the hand and carefully shook it; it belonged to a large white female rat, who, when she smiled, the frogs discovered, had no teeth,

“They took them out,” she explained, “we bit them when they grabbed at us, so they took our teeth.”

Lots of furry clawed hands then extended from the cages. Some took them quickly back in, some waved, one made an awkward ‘thumbs up’ sign.

“I’m Number324,”

“I’m Number527,”

“I am Number125,”

And the different numbers kept coming.

“Did you know the Three Eyed Toad?” Kewl asked Number335.

“No, sorry before my time I think,” she replied.

Toby stepped closer, “We need help, Number335, will you and your people help us?”

“Help with the ants?”

“Yes! What do you know of the ants?”

“They’re dead.”

“No, they’re not, they are in our reservoir, eating anyone who comes near them.”

“No, they are dead,” Number335 said, “We saw them, they were normal, they had a queen, they didn’t talk much, but they worked hard to build a home here at the Lab. Then a human came, he was meaner than the rest, he had cold eyes and a dish filled with a pale yellow powder which he threw at the ant hill. They all died. Then they got back up and started growing horns. They ate their queen. They were not ants anymore, just mindless eaters driven by the yellow powder.”

“What was the powder, sister?” Kewl asked.

“We are uncertain, but we heard the humans speak of finding it deep below the earth, somewhere called Prehistoric.”

Toby inched closer to Number335, “Can you help us, we’ll set you free, but we need to kill all the ants in our reservoir,”

“We will help you Toby and Kewl, but we do not know how to kill the ants.”

With the aid of the rats, Toby and Kewl found the switch to open the cages. They had to move quick, not every creature there was as friendly as their new thirty-two rat friends. Before they could be eaten, they all ran toward a grating that led to an extraction fan, which was fatefully broken; through that, they escaped and into the fresh night air.

“Lead us to your home, Toby,” Number 527 said and then gave the ‘thumbs’ up sign again.

“I think you should be called Thumbs from now on, brother.”

“I like that.” Thumbs grinned.

“I’d like a name too.”

“Name me.”

Kewl put his webbed hands in the air, “No worries we’ll give you all proper names.”

Toby nudged him, “Let’s do it after, ok?”

“After what?”

“The ant battle.”

“Oh, ok, brother.”

They moved with swift intent through the grass and cut across the human road; when it came to roads, the animals knew there was safety in numbers, a car was more likely to see a hoard of rats than two small lone frogs.

When they made it back to the reservoir, they found that the frogs that had stood guard in their absence had disappeared.

“The ants have died?” Number335 joined Kewl on the rock, “No, look they are there.” She pointed with her long nose to a mass of feathers and blood; the ants had spread out to take another victim.

“Ok, here’s the plan,” Toby motioned for them all to gather round, “Tomorrow is a school day, and if there’s a trip and the human tadpoles get hold of one of the ants, it could not just disrupt the food chain but could break it all together.”

“We’re protecting humans?” Thumbs cocked his head.

“Not humans, but Mother Nature, the natural order must be upheld, and it’s up to us to do it.”

“Tell us what we must do.” Number335 huddled closer, and the rest of the rats followed suit.

The problem was Toby didn’t know what to do; in truth, he didn’t think they’d get this far. Dying in the lab was as far as he’d thought up to, but with the army of pink eyes blinking at him and Kewl nodding heroically at a plan he had yet to hear, well he had to say something…

“Right, the plan.” He stood up on his hind legs, so he was the tallest of the group, “Ok the plan is…” and the next thing he knew he was air born clutched in the talons of a big black bird who looked down casually at him as it flew toward the sky. His friends, frozen in terror watching on.

It was now or never to form a plan, thought Toby, “Excuse me, bird.”

The bird stopped flying and hovered.

“Bird, please put me down.”

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m sure you are, but we have a problem that needs addressing, and I’m the only frog who can do it; by eating me, you could be dooming the planet to a zombie ant invasion.”

The bird narrowed its eyes, “That’s what those things are?” He nodded his beak to the squirming Horned Ants below.

“Yes.”

“They’re not natural.”

“No, they were dumped by the humans.”

“Of course, humans,” the bird spat and snorted and then almost dropped Toby.

“The ants have already eaten two birds that we know of; help us avenge your fallen friends?”

“I will not help; humans can clean up their own mess.”

Fear and dread tumbled through Toby’s tight, dry little body and he realised that he’d never again see the wonders of a dawn or the eat a fat fly, or mate and spawn in the Spring.

“Please Bird.” He stared up at it, “We are the only defence Mother Nature has.”

The bird began to carefully tumble through the sky till it was just above the rock where Kewl and the rats were still sitting, their mouths slack with the horror of Toby’s abduction.

“Suddenly I’m not so hungry little frog,” the bird said then carefully placed Toby on the rock and propelled itself back into the sky.

“Brother! Are you OK?”

“No Kewl, I’m so far from OK right now that OK had invented the time machine and zapped itself back to the age when our ancestors were twenty foot tall and roamed the earth.”

“What did you say to the bird?” Number335 put her nose on Toby and sniffed him.

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve had an evil week: back licking, science dumps, Minty killed before my very eyes, a trip through a sewer and a toilet when we could have gone straight through the air ducts, yes Kewl I noticed that! Then, to top it all off, I was a victim of a bird attack,”

“How was I supposed to know about the air ducts?”

“You knew about the sewers!”

“Frogs,” Thumbs said peeking over the rock, “the ants are finished with the bird, they’re now moving around, with… more purpose.”

“Ok, there’s no time for a plan, let’s just roll in there and start ripping horns out!”

The rats squealed and applauded so loudly that the ants heard them and started moving towards the rocks.

Then Toby got an idea, “They kill by their numbers, but there are more of us, everyone picks an ant and destroys that one before they can swarm.”

As the two armies clashed together, the battle cry of the frogs and rats was heard slicing through the still night air. Clawed paws met with yellow horns, each of the frogs pounced onto an ant and held it in place for a rat to rip into. A few of the rats were careless and eaten so quick it was like they’d sank into quicksand. The actual fighting took but a few minutes, but to the frogs and rats, it felt like hours.

By the end, the reservoir looked like a forgotten battlefield strewn with bodies like red and white confetti and defiant yellow horns that, by their continued presence mocked Mother Nature.

“What about the horns brother?”

Toby picked a pair up, “We bury them Kewl, as far down as we can so the humans can never find them again.”

“We will dig.” Number 335 rallied the other rats.

“Thank you, Num… Pink Lady.” Toby smiled at her, and Kewl started naming the other rats.

***

The story of what happened was told time and again for many moons. Sometimes it was a beaver that led the white army to victory against the Horned Ants; sometimes it was a stray dog looking to win back the love of its masters. Although the basic story remained the same, there are two truths consistently left out. One was that a lone bird circled the battlefield keeping away any skyward predators from picking off the brave soldiers. The other was that it was all down to two frogs, two little frogs that saved the world from the zombie ants.

After all, it would never have been believed, and we all have the responsibility of protecting the food chain.

I chose to self-publish because I love the democracy of it. Technology has given us so many avenues to share creativity that may never have made it out into the world in the past. My approach to life is that I’ll work my hardest to put good work into the world. I know it won’t be perfect, but I need to push past the vulnerability involved because I have one lifetime and when I die I want to be able to say “I tried really hard to make contributions that were good for the world.” Technology allows all of us to put our best thoughts and creations out to connect and share with others without gatekeepers. I’ve found fantastic editors who totally get the mission behind what I write. I cherish my ability to keep my work close to my heart and to connect with readers. I also like being able to keep prices low because this is more about celebrating the heroism of social service professionals than about profit.

What do you love about being an author?

What I love most is the very stuff that makes me seem crazy. I love when the story tells itself. I started writing my second book, Penny Legend, without knowing who the murderer was. When I found out I was completely surprised and frankly devastated. But I’d learned that when the story tells itself, I don’t get to change it (I tried that and ended up wasting time and needing to revert back to how the story wanted to be). When I learned the identity of the murderer in Penny Legend, it totally messed up the structure I thought the book should have because we found out the murderer too early for a traditional mystery. But the story had its own way of carrying on the intrigue and momentum and it worked! Every book has some of that magic where the story seems to come from some other place.

If you could have dinner with any literary character, who would it be and what would you eat?

I would have George’s Bank Sea Scallops with Artichoke Puree, Yellowfoot Chanterelles, and Fennel Pollen at Bristol at the Boston Four Seasons with Robert B. Parker’s character Spenser. And he would happen to be single.

If your book was to be made into a movie, who would you cast as the lead?

Amy Adams would be a great Penny Wade. If she was able to communicate with those aliens in Arrival, she could do okay with some of Penny’s more difficult social work clients.

In Girl Ghosted, your protagonist has an unfortunate experience with online dating, have you ever tried online dating?

Oh, yes. Yes I have. Some of Penny’s experiences are inspired by my own, others are inspired by stories from my friends. Some are purely imagined. I’ll never reveal which are which! It can be harrowing and it can be wonderful. I have several close male friends that started out as online dates. No happily ever after yet….

If you had a time machine, which era would you go back to and why?

I like modern comforts, so I hesitate to go back very far. This would not be comfortable, but I’d like to travel South America in the 1950’s with Che Guevera. Crazy to say especially since I dislike motorcycles, having been badly injured on one. You didn’t say I needed a rational answer though.

What life advice do you wish you’d been given sooner?

Actually, it’s in Girl Ghosted. Here’s part of a scene where Penny is talking to her mentor about her failures in love:

“You know,” I said, “when I date a guy who meets some very basic qualifications, I feel like he should be good enough. Well, not only that, but friends, and my dead parents in my head, say ‘What’s wrong with him? He’s smart and handsome and has a good job.’ Maybe he even loves me, and I feel like that should be enough. You’re telling me it’s not.”

“Of course I am!” Nathan’s eyebrows went up and he leaned even more toward me, resting his forearms on his knees. “Do you really want to merge your life with someone who doesn’t deeply see and respect your approach to life? He has to really get why you do this very hard, intense, and dangerous job—the deep reasons you do this. And he has to have his own path where he’s developing things important to him, in himself, in his contribution to the world in this lifetime.”

I felt tears prick behind my eyes. It seemed so obvious when he said it, but also so impossible.

“People get divorced all the time because the basic criteria you stated aren’t enough. They’re enough for a while, especially coupled with lust, but they aren’t enough in the long term.”

“What are the chances of me finding him though?”

“There isn’t one him. Let go of that. You aren’t looking for a particular person so much as a particular relationship.”

“Huh?”

“There is more than one man who will be interested in and capable of having a healthy relationship with you. As you interact with men, remember how you want to be treated and how you want to enjoy a partner. It’s about finding someone who relates to you the way you want to relate.”

“Oh my God,” I said, suddenly glimpsing the shift of perspective he was suggesting. “I keep meeting men who I think are great because I like things about them that are really about them as a man and not about the way they relate to me. Then I hope they’ll learn to have the relationship I want because I like their looks, masculinity, intelligence or whatever.”

“What if you started with evaluating a man’s ability to see and love you for who you are, to communicate well, to practice give-and-take. If he doesn’t get gold stars on those, you move on, no matter how good-looking or otherwise compelling he is.”

“I’m looking for a particular relationship, not a specific man.”

“That’s right. In the end, of course, he’ll be a specific man, but you have to look for him differently than you think. If you focus first on how he relates to you, you’ll rule out bad ones sooner. You’ll stop getting stuck in thinking he’s so perfect despite his lack of relationship skills.”

What research did you do for Girl Ghosted?

I went on online dating sites to gather some of the typical stuff people put in profiles (nine out of ten men use the words “laid back” within their first two sentences), and examples of user names. I pulled some lines from messages men had sent me. I did research on the MA Department of Children and Families regarding procedures for assigning and assessing child welfare cases. I researched crypto-currencies because one of the characters trades in them and it’s an interesting and intriguing world, about which many of us are unaware. I did a bit of research on sailing, but can’t say much about that without spoiling.

Where do you write best?

I write well either sitting on my bed or in a little office I have in the back yard. Sometimes I write onsite in Boston locations, but usually that’s more the place descriptions rather than dialogue or plot. I need to be in a quiet place write the story because I go into the world to see what’s happening.

What was the last book you read, and what were your thoughts on it?

Oh my gosh. I just re-read a Nancy Drew mystery—The Mystery of the Old Clock. When I was a kid I adored Nancy Drew. I read every single one over the course of a summer. That was my start into mysteries. I was excited for the nostalgia of summers in Michigan reading Nancy Drew, but I hated it! It was terrible! I feel like I’ll be struck by lightning for saying that so I’m gonna stop now.

If you didn’t write in your genre, which other would you prefer and why?

I’m working on a middle grades magical realism series. That’s fun. I’ve also thought about historical fiction because I love researching and being inspired by historical events.

For fans of Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, Lois Duncan, and Daphne Du Maurier comes a powerhouse anthology featuring some of the best writers of YA thrillers and horror

A host of the smartest young adult authors come together in this collection of scary stories and psychological thrillers curated by Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea’s April Genevieve Tucholke.

Each story draws from a classic tale or two—sometimes of the horror genre, sometimes not—to inspire something new and fresh and terrifying. There are no superficial scares here; these are stories that will make you think even as they keep you on the edge of your seat. From bloody horror to supernatural creatures to unsettling, all-too-possible realism, this collection has something for any reader looking for a thrill.

Fans of TV’s The Walking Dead, True Blood, and American Horror Story will tear through tales by these talented authors:

I do enjoy a good anthology. You find new authors you never knew existed, read stories from some of your favourite authors, and everything is in lovely tasty bite-sized stories that mean you get to read an entire tale in one sitting. Slasher Girls & Monster Boys is a perfect example of this. There were some stories that didn’t float my boat, but hey we don’t all have the same taste, and that’s what makes the world go round (along with money!) but there were a few stories in there that really caught me by surprise and didn’t let me go. Carrie Ryan’s In the Forest Dark and Deep is very evocative and has an almost Twin Peaks vibe (although it made much more sense) I particularly liked it as it has an Alice in Wonderland theme and I’d studied Lewis Carroll’s book for my own twist on the tale Lost in Wonderland. I also loved Cat Winters’ Emmeline, which was gruesome and atmospheric.

From a writer’s perspective, this is a beautiful collection of stories that show the breadth of literary horror possibilities out there, and all the authors put their own spin on them, in their own style.

The front cover is a little cartoon like for me; I would have preferred something more sinister to represent the feel of the stories inside. However, I do appreciate that this is primarily for a YA market, so I can understand the choice.

When Jamie and Kirsty move into their first home together they are full of optimism. The future, in which they plan to get married and start a family, is bright. The other residents of their building seem friendly too: the horror writer and the middle-aged herbalist who live upstairs, and the Newtons, a married couple who welcome them to the building with open arms.

At first, the two couples get on well. But then strange things start to happen. Dead rats are left on their doorstep. They hear disturbing noises, and much worse, in the night. After Jamie’s best friend is injured in a horrific accident, Jamie and Kirsty find themselves targeted by a campaign of terror.

As Jamie and Kirsty are driven to the edge of despair, Jamie vows to fight back – but he has no idea what he is really up against…

THE MAGPIES is a terrifying psychological thriller in which the monsters are not vampires or demons but the people we live next door to. It is a nightmare that could happen to anyone.

My Review:

I’ve been reading a lot of thrillers recently and have a particular liking for Mark Edwards as an author. He writes very realistic thrillers, things that could really happen and horrors that could befall just about anyone. The Magpies is no different. Nuisance neighbours, we’ve all had them, this story could happen to any one one of us, so perhaps this should be more of a life survival guide, rather than a work of fiction!

I sometimes find it hard to review thrillers in general, as I don’t want reveal twists and expose too much of the plot and ruin another reader’s experience, so I’ll just say: READ THIS BOOK.

From a writer’s point of view, the way the story evolves is a perfect example of suspense fiction; it starts with small incidents that could be easily dismissed and quickly ascends to the types of situations that seriously call for action. The story builds beautifully, and before you know it, you’re invested in the protagonists and can’t put the book down. Any writer looking for a great example of ho to build tension into a story should read this book.

The front cover does let the book down a little, I’m not sure it particularly represents the story as it’s set more in a city than in the country, and I do know how important book covers are in the commercial world of books. It is also similar to other books by the same author so could be easily mistaken for the wrong book.

Overall I’d give The Magpies 4 out of 5 stars – a must read for thriller writers and readers alike.

Like this:

It was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime, a final adventure before settling down.

After a perfect start, Daniel and Laura’s travels end abruptly when they are thrown off a night train in the middle of nowhere. To find their way back to civilisation, they must hike along the tracks through a forest…a haunting journey that ends in unimaginable terror.

Back in London, Daniel and Laura vow never to talk about what they saw that night. But as they try to fit back into their old lives, it becomes clear that their nightmare is just beginning…

Follow You Home is a chilling tale of secrets, lies and deadly consequences from the author of #1 bestsellers The Magpies and Because She Loves Me.

My Review:

This book was another one that grabbed me from the outset. The author cleverly ties the past with the present throughout the story to keep you guessing and, of course, to keep you on the edge of your seat. It is one of those stories that, although could seem far-fetched, is so rooted in reality with real and believable characters, that I could honestly believe that something like this could happen. Again, I don’t want to go into too many details here; I don’t want to reveal the plot or ruin the ending. You’ll just have to read it to see what I mean.

From a writer’s perspective, there is clearly an enticing incident that happens in the past, it’s the catalyst that sets the story of the book in motion. It refers to a lot, and you don’t get to know what it is until near the end of the book. This, in my opinion, was a risk. By keeping a the reader guessing you can end up disappointing them, as those with a dark mind (like myself) could be imagining something much worse than what actually happened. As it turned out, the incident was pretty awful, so fortunately met with my twisted expectations.

The front cover is atmospheric, but I’m unsure as to what scene in the book it’s representing, I think a cover that has something more obviously related to the book would serve it better.

Overall I’d give It Follows You Home 4 out of 5 stars. Well written and thoroughly enjoyable.

Bad Blood – Battle of the Undead #1

“I am Britannia. I am your protector. I will fend off the hungry hordes of undead hands that reach toward you. I am your steadfast defender. I will stand between you and the zombie masses as they try to taste your flesh. I am strong, unyielding, and dedicated to your survival. All I ask from you… is your blood.”

Bad Blood Reviews

5 Stars: This book is freaking Awesome! I read it in like three hours! I couldn’t put the book down the action was mind blowing and the story was riveting! Amanda Masters Reviews

5 Stars: Now, the main reason I loved this book so much was the action. Every word describes action. Every page has action. I also really love the author’s selection of different species of the book and the contrast between the two: the vampires and the zombies. Girl in the Wood Reviews

4 Stars: Bad Blood brings an exciting new take on Vampires. I have to admit, vampire books have been boring me lately, but when you add zombies to the mix…. Loved it!! Genie (Goodreads)

5 Stars: I loved it.. Not really into a Zombie Book, but because it had Vampires I gave it a try and wow.. really a fast paced action book for a short read. Valerie (Goodreads)

Bad Timing – Battle of the Undead #2

Bad Timing - Battle of the Undead #2 out now!

Traitors’ Gate – Battle of the Undead #0.5 – FREE READ

About Nicky Peacock

My published books

Bad Blood – Battle of the Undead #1

So Long and Thanks for all the Brains – Available: http://www.amazon.co.uk/So-Long-Thanks-All-Brains-ebook/dp/B006T3L2CW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1410436510&sr=8-1&keywords=so+long+and+thanks+for+all+the+brains